Chapter Text
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Come, but Not Gone
Wilred was nowhere to be found. Which didn’t mean his body was waiting to be found by her at Urth’s Gift in the Black Shroud, no matter how often the worry would creep up in her mind. The members of the Crystal Braves kept coming and going; Alphinaud and his captain were constantly sending out smaller squads on missions only they were fully informed about. For someone not in the loop, S’ert realized, it was incredibly difficult to follow the inner workings of the Crystal Braves. No one could just tell her where Wilred had gone. Alphinaud had left for an audience in Limsa Lominsa the morning after the Ascian attack, and Ilberd… Ilberd, he looked at S’ert the same way the merchants in Limsa Lominsa looked at the kids playing in the streets. A harmless nuisance, but a nuisance nonetheless, once left to her own devices. Which was odd, considering her status within the Scions, though S’ert had no way of telling whether it was a result of her asking around about one of his men or whether it was distrust that stemmed from something else entirely. Either way, she knew he wouldn’t tell her anything of use regarding Wilred and thus she tried to stay away from him as far as she could.
In the end, S’ert decided she had no other choice but to return to Urth’s Gift and see for herself. Not without sharing her idea with Minfilia first however. She couldn’t just leave the headquarters without the leader of their order knowing where she planned to go, and, well… Minfilia was their leader for a reason, and S’ert secretly hoped that maybe the other woman had a better idea than to head into the forest without anything more substantial than a hunch .
It had been two days since Moenbryda’s sacrifice and although the inner circle of the Scions had sent her off properly last night and their loss was very real and very felt , when S’ert quietly entered Minfilia’s audience chamber, it almost seemed like nothing was amiss. The other woman was busy, discussing the collaboration efforts of Scions of the Seventh Dawn and the Ishgardian temple knights defending Ishgardian territory against the next wave of Dravanians attacking the border.
S’ert knew the only reason why she wasn’t sent back out immediately was because no one outside the Scions present two days ago knew that she no longer qualified as the Warrior of Light, and she selfishly made use of that privilege. Not for the attention and recognition, but for the freedom it offered her.
Ishgard had sent Lucia again, the stern knight who had approached the Scions with the request to survey the Keeper of the Lake. And just as before she hardly deigned to look at S’ert directly when her business with Minfilia was concluded, and after a quick bow, she turned on her heels to exit the audience chamber.
“How are… things going?” S’ert gestured with her hand. Things could mean anything. Ishgard. Garlemald.
Moenbryda.
Minfilia sat behind her desk, hands clasped before her, and she barely lifted her head when S’ert spoke up. The shadow of a smile appeared on her lips but faded even before it could reach her eyes. She looked tired.
“Ishgard expects Dravania’s next attack to be a devastating one and has asked for our aid.”
“ Our aid?” More hand-waving, before S’ert shook her head. “The Scions?”
“Thanks to Operation Archon, we might be the only instance able to move the city leaders of Eorzea to join the fray for Ishgard. You know how strained relations are between the city states and the Holy See, not to mention their own quarrels. ‘Tis not the best time to ask them to present a united front, but,” Minfilia sat up straight, her demeanor shifting to something more energetic, the smile that curled her lips not disappearing this time. “‘Tis is not why you want to talk to me, I presume.”
S’ert was thankful the other Scion changed the topic and masterfully steered her away from asking why the Crystal Braves didn’t help. She didn’t want to judge Alphinaud too harshly, especially because she wasn’t in the know about every operation, but she couldn’t fully stop herself. With absence the heart grew fonder, but in her case the same applied to pettiness.
“I want to head into the Black Shroud to disprove one of my visions. The only plausible reason why my Echo shows me the death of those around me must be because it wants me to prevent them from coming to pass, right?… right?” Minfilia only listened, and when that fragile smile on her lips faltered just a little, S’ert started to feel less confident about her theory.
So she doubled down.
“I can do this, Minfilia. I’m sure Lucia asked you to send the Warrior of Light to the frontlines to support and give hope to her troops, but with the way I am right now, they’d notice that the Warrior of Light has grown weak. I can’t fill that role, but what I can do is save a life. Just one. I… I need to prove to myself that I’m capable of saving someone.” She regretted her words the second they had left her lips. It had been insensitive to bring Moenbryda into this, but to her surprise Minfilia didn’t scold her. Instead she leaned against the backrest of her chair, pursing her lips before they parted for a sigh so heavy S’ert didn’t dare to breathe.
“I have made you carry such a burden since you have joined the order.”
That was the last thing S’ert had expected to hear from Minfilia.
She shook her head.
“No,” she glanced at Tupsimati, which had been returned to its rightful place on the wall behind Minfilia. “I don’t think the duty you’ve entrusted me with is a burden; I’m just out of my depth. It’s me. I’m sure if the roles were reversed and you would have been chosen as the Warrior of Light, things would be different.” Minfilia wouldn’t have needed a two-month break after her brother’s death. Minfilia would have returned to her duties immediately. S’ert didn’t say it out loud, but the other woman seemed to understand anyway, the slightest shift in her features, a frown, indicating so before they softened again and she let her head hang a little.
“You think too highly of me,” she finally proclaimed. “With everything that is going on… oh I wish I could just step away from it all. Do not mistake my calm demeanor for the truth. I am not given the time to grieve, and with every new turn of events, every invite to another political gathering, I can feel the grief grow heavier in my chest and my motivation for my duties waning. I believe we all have moments of doubt, in which our duties outgrow ourselves in daunting dimensions. I know I have.”
S’ert couldn’t believe what Minfilia was saying and how it went against the very picture she had of their leader. The mistrust that had festered in her heart ever since Operation Leviathan hadn’t been the source of her warped image of her. She realized now that from the moment she had stepped before Minfilia for the first time, she had misunderstood the other woman, had only seen what she stood for and not who she truly was. She had treated Minfilia the same way as those around her, those who chose to only see the Warrior of Light in her.
“I’m sorry,” was the short and earnest culmination of her realization, and Minfilia cocked her head to the side, understandably confused. “For what?”
“That you’re not getting the time you need to, you know… feel,” S’ert shrugged nonchalantly. This was all she could admit out loud. Just because the image she had had of Minfilia had changed, it didn’t mean she suddenly was able to push her pride aside and admit it. “But at least you got to send her off – I know it doesn’t just erase that shadow from your heart, but…,” she trailed off and fell silent with a shrug.
The ceremony had been beautiful. The Scions had met at the mark of the Scholar at Rathefrost last night – a cliff edge on the other side of the lake. A remote spot, pervaded by crystallized aether just as the rest of the landscape, with a single blue glimmering tree reaching for the skies. A weathered stone lay beneath its shadow, engraved with the mark of the Scholar, also known as the deity Thaliak, the guardian of Moenbryda’s hometown, Old Sharlayan. But no matter how beautiful the place chosen for someone’s last goodbye, it didn’t make sending them off any easier.
Minfilia shook her head before she turned around to look at the staff behind her. “It was beautiful. Moenbryda would have loved it.” When she fell silent then, S’ert couldn’t see her expression, but by the time she turned to face her again, Minfilia had returned to her old self, her features soft, but her eyes calm with resolve.
“Head into the Shroud, S’ert. I agree with you. Our alliance – if that is what you want to call it – with Ishgard is weak. I’d rather have them believe the Warrior of Light is on a secret mission than let them find out the truth on the battlefield. It is a precarious situation, and none of our options are ideal… but I believe if we play our cards right… we might turn the events in our favor.”
The leader of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn spoke calmly, pragmatically even. Her words were far from one of her speeches meant to rouse the crowds, and yet S’ert found herself inspired more than she had been for a long time. It was that sincere moment of vulnerability the two women had shared that caused her trust, her belief in Minfilia to rekindle, and with a strong nod she bid her farewell.
—
Two hours later, S’ert was deep in the Black Shroud.
Here, beneath the shadows of ancient trees, the wind gently rustling through the canopy, it was difficult to imagine her order setting up camp in front of the Steps of Faith, a bridge that led from the central highlands over a chasm towards the gates of the city of Ishgard. She was certain that without her heart-to-heart with Minfilia, she would be plagued by doubt about the importance of her self-imposed mission, but none of that troubled her now. And it wasn’t just that. It was easy to let the rustling leaves, the birdsong following her, and the few rays of sunshine that managed to break through the canopy, dancing like little specters of light on the ground before her feet, soothe the storm in her heart. The forest itself still unsettled her; it felt so easy to get lost here that she was sure the second she left the marked path, she would find herself in a labyrinth of woodwork. But she had to admit that the nature surrounding her had calming qualities. Nothing was truly forgotten – of course, her burdens mattered – but it all felt easier to carry.
Easier to carry until she spotted two familiar figures step out of the tavern in Quarrymill. Coultenet and Hoary Boulder. She hadn’t seen the two since her sparring match with the latter months ago. And while under any other circumstances she would have been delighted to see familiar faces here in this remote forest fort, the memories of the vision her Echo had shown her gnawed at the back of her head. Both were supposed to be present for her grim discovery, and she had chosen to head into the Shroud by herself precisely because she wanted to avoid fulfilling her premonition by accident. She hesitated for a moment – neither man had spotted her yet. She could simply turn around and give the tavern a wide berth, slipping by them undetected. And it was that hesitation that rendered her plans obsolete a second later when Hoary Boulder lifted his arm to wave at her, Coultenet quietly tipping his hat.
It could mean everything and nothing, and S’ert kept clinging to the latter.
“Hey~” Her greeting was almost too nonchalant as she approached the two, curious eyes flitting from one fellow member of the Scions to the other. “What brings you so deep in the Shroud?”
“Just a simple bodyguard job. A researcher from the city needed an escort,” Hoary Boulder pointed to the tavern behind them, followed by a cocky grin, “he arrived safe and sound thanks to us.”
“Why are you in Quarrymill?” Coultenet’s gentle tone always surprised S’ert. His nature was a lot softer than his stern looks would lead one to believe, and he matched Hoary Boulder’s energy well in his own way.
She pondered whether she should lead the two astray, ensuring they wouldn’t be there when she reached the clearing, but decided not to overcomplicate the matter. She had too little to go on when it came to the nature of her vision and so, after ushering the two to a place less conspicuous than right in front of the tavern, she shared the whole truth with them.
Hoary Boulder scratched the back of his thick neck as he leaned against the exterior wall of the building, the timber boards quietly creaking beneath his weight. She had picked a spot right next to the tavern, squeezed between the small stream that crossed the fort and the inn. Someone had placed makeshift wooden benches here. Perfect for a heart-to-heart.
“Not gonna lie…,” the redhead started, “I kind of feel like you shouldn’t have told us. It feels like one of those prophecies the religious types go crazy over.” S’ert punched the part of his leg that wasn’t covered by his white armor and he yelped.
“Don’t say that!! I’m going to feel bad; I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“I’m just saying!!” he defended himself, now inching away from her in case his next words would prompt her to punch him again. “I haven’t interacted much with Wilred, but I like the kid! I don’t want to find him lying dead in a ditch!”
“Extremely empathetic,” Coultenet threw in, his words sharper than any of S’ert’s punches could have been. “But she’s right, Hoary Boulder. We don’t know the true nature of her vision. She might have to ‘fulfill’ every part of it in order to change the outcome. It might be a warning, or it might be the inevitable truth.”
S’ert wanted to tell them that she’d rather want them to stay here than to accompany her, but that would mean she would be forcing the decision on whether to join her or not on them and that felt… unfair to them. They had just stumbled into her by pure chance, and she was the one disclosing this difficult conundrum to them.
So she remained silent, which put the responsibility of deciding what to do on all of them.
“It’s…” It was Hoary Boulder who broke the silence first, groaning in frustration. “It’s whatever! Let’s just do it, hell, Coultenet, let’s just go with her. We don’t know what the right course of action would be, so we can just do whatever feels right.”
“And not letting S’ert walk around the Shroud by herself is what feels right?” Coultenet could barely hide the amusement dancing on his lips.
“Of course!” Standing up, Hoary Boulder waved his hand dismissively at her.
“A lone city girl–”
“–and the Warrior of Light,” Coultenet interrupted him.
“– and the Warrior of Light, alone in the Black Shroud? Not on Hoary Boulder’s watch!”
S’ert looked at the two, and like Coultenet, she had trouble hiding the small smile that fought its way onto her lips. “Not on Hoary Boulder’s watch~~~,” she repeated, raising one arm.
—
It was a stone’s throw to their destination then. S’ert still remembered where to leave the beaten path and head for the opening in the stone formations further in the thicket, most of the daylight getting caught in the lush canopy above their heads. This part of the Shroud had lost none of its magic since the last time she had been here. The crystals that sprang from the ground shimmered in hues of light blues and greens, their reflections in the spring water surrounding them almost as bright. The water itself was so clear S’ert could see the moss and other plants covering the ground beneath the surface, serenely swaying whenever they set a foot into the water and sent ripples through it.
She tried not to linger on the memory of reuniting with G’raha here.
“We’re almost there,” she reassured her two companions instead, carefully navigating over the soft ground, her eyes fixated on what lay beyond, both parts worried and hopeful that she would find nothing at all.
So, when they headed around the corner, boots soaked in water, S’ert holding her breath, her heart sank when she spotted a body clad in a blue uniform lying motionless on the other side of the clearing.
Her Echo had shown the truth.
And it felt like a strange déjà vu, to retrace the steps not yet taken, see her hand move towards the body, knowing what she would find before she turned Wilred on his back. And yet she was not prepared for it.
It seemed so foolish now, to assume her vision could have shown her anything but what was meant to happen, what was going to happen. What a cruel gift to bestow onto her. Had she touched Moenbryda? She didn’t remember. Would her Echo show her every death–
S’ert paused.
Haurchefant.
Panic sprung from its hiding place and crawled up her throat, the realization twisting in her stomach. It was real; it was all real, and she was going to lose more people she loved.
“It looks like he was stabbed…” Hoary Boulder had crouched down next to her, and when he examined Wilred’s body closer, S’ert gave into the impulse to touch his arm. Her companion, twice her size, inched away from her, the look of horror he threw at her before he tried to conceal it with a half-hearted chuckle, something that edged itself into her memory.
The silence hung heavy between them before he finally dared to ask.
“Did you see anything?”
S’ert shook her head and stared at her palm. She didn’t see anything, which came as a relief, but at the same time only presented her with even more questions.
“Who do you think did this?” And she decided to focus on the questions they could, perhaps, find answers to for now. If the hardships of the last few months had taught her one thing, it was that it was much easier to push ahead and through what was wearing her down than to give in to the panic. Or maybe – and this she categorized as a terrifying thought and thus not one she was willing to face right now – she was just getting used to death, always being just a step away.
Coultenet was carefully examining Wilred’s body, while Hoary Boulder had taken out his bedroll and spread it out next to their find.
“By the looks of it… it has been a few days. You said no one back at HQ could tell you his whereabouts?” When S’ert nodded to the Elezen’s question, Coultenet’s features darkened. “… We’ve heard mumblings. One of the Crystal Braves’ members, Riol Forrest – he assisted the order back when we were trying to subjugate Titan, and I would deem him trustworthy. Right, Hoary Boulder?” Coultenet paused to look at his companion and waited for the redhead to nod, before he finally continued. “He approached us, because he noticed inconsistencies in the ledgers of the Crystal Braves.”
“Something fishy’s going on, is what Coultenet is trying to say,” Hoary Boulder threw in while he was carefully moving Wilred onto his bedroll before wrapping the thick piece of cloth around the body, tying it up tightly.
“So you’re saying what? Wilred was involved? I knew him a little. He’d be too proud to embezzle some money and lose his life over it.” S’ert frowned at Coultenet before she watched Hoary Boulder throw the body over his shoulder.
“No, I’m hypothesizing he might have fallen victim to the inconsistencies. ”
“You mean, he got too close to…,” S’ert didn’t finish her sentence and pursed her lips.
“What should we do with him?” Hoary Boulder was holding onto the package , which he was trying to carry with the most respect he could muster.
“Could you two return him to Little Ala Mhigo? It’s a settlement in Southern Thanalan. I’ll head back to HQ in the meantime and try to talk to this Riol. Whoever did this doesn’t know we found Wilred yet. We have to make use of that advantage.” Coultenet mustered S’ert quietly, head cocking to the side when he asked, “What are you planning to do?”
“Well, we have to find out who did this and why… and stop them.”
—
The sun hung dangerously low above the mountain range in the West when S’ert returned to Revenant’s Toll via the aethernet. The purplish-red orb of light threatened to dip into the shadows where Northern Thanalan bordered on Mor Dhona, the bustling markets and streets of the city quieter than they usually were. Most members of the Scions and adjacent groups that weren’t currently deployed elsewhere had left for the Gates of Judgement this morning, where the Dravanian assault was probably already underway.
A strange feeling, to not be at the front lines with the rest of her comrades. Even stranger with how ghostly empty the headquarters felt when she returned. Minfilia hadn’t sent the whole order; their leader always thought ahead and had left behind a few members to delegate the communication and watch over The Rising Stones – which in hindsight had been more than wise, given the Crystal Braves had free reign here. Among those that stayed behind was Tataru, who sat behind her desk, greeting S’ert with a nervous smile when she spotted her.
S’ert had planned ahead. She didn’t want to lose time by having to look for this Riol and had contacted Tataru via her link pearl while she had headed back to Quarrymill’s Aetheryte. Their receptionist had confirmed that her target was one of the small number of members of the Crystal Braves currently not deployed in the field, so now all she had to do was approach him in a non-conspicuous way and make him talk.
Ask him. Ask him to share the information he had on Alphinaud’s order.
“He returned not long before you did. That’s him. At the counter.” Something S’ert loved about Tataru was that the Lalafell didn’t ask questions. Not to be mistaken for a general disinterest as it was the receptionist’ job to collect information, but she had a natural talent for discerning whether a situation was in need of action or reprise. And this one urged for the former.
S’ert looked to the counter of the little bar not too far away from the receptionist’s desk. F'lhaminn, an older Miqote who had been with the Scions ever since they had moved their headquarters to Revenant’s Toll, was manning the bar like almost any other day, filling up a mug with ale before moving it in front of the only person currently sitting at the counter. Riol, S’ert deduced. He looked like the type she’d avoid getting into a quarrel with down by the docks of Limsa Lominsa, his hair pushed out of his face messily with the strap of his leather eye patch disappearing in the blonde strands. His skin was tanned by the harsh sun of La Noscea’s shores, which wasn’t an assumption she made based on the tone of his skin, but the distinctively shaped tattoo on his right cheekbone – the symbol in a style she instinctively connected with her hometown. He picked up the tankard and nodded at F’lhaminn.
“Thanks, Tataru–” Before S’ert stood up and turned to leave, Tataru reached for her hand, placing her much smaller one on top. “Is there trouble brewing?”
Sometimes Tataru’s curiosity got the better of her.
S’ert glanced at the hand resting on top of hers and hesitated for a second before she shook her head, the gentle smile on her lips almost genuine. “No~. I’m just trying to get more familiar with the Crystal Braves.”
“With everyone’s best interests in mind?”
The question made her scoff, and when Tataru released her hand, she made a step backwards, the shrug that followed defensive and petulant.
“With everyone’s best interests in mind.”
It felt a little silly to walk up to the bar like her only goal here wasn’t to talk to the fellow sitting there enjoying his ale, just to pick out the stool right next to him and wave off the questioning look of the bartender when she climbed into the seat. This wasn’t a smoky bar tucked somewhere between a shady weapons’ store and a tackle shop on the lower docks of Limsa Lominsa. She didn’t have to think of her cover or keep up an act, and thus, she simply cleared her throat, rested her elbows on the rough wooden surface of the counter, and asked, “Riol Forrest?”
“Last time I checked, I was, yeh~.” He gave her a quick once-over before his attention returned to the ale in his hand, and after taking a big sip, he added, “What’s up, Warrior of Light?”
“I’m still looking for my friend. He joined the Braves a while ago. Maybe you’ve seen him? His name is Wilred.” It felt wrong to use Wilred’s name as a decoy, knowing Hoary Boulder was currently returning his body to his comrades, but S’ert wanted to gauge Riol’s reaction. She believed Coultenet when he said the man was trustworthy, but right now S’ert was stumbling in the dark while she was trying to discover what was truly happening behind the closed doors of the Crystal Braves. She couldn’t be careful enough.
“Isn’t that somethin’…” Riol gave his mug a little shake, and S’ert could hear the ale sloshing from side to side. “Interestin’ you’re bringin’ him up now that the lad’s disappeared an’ there’s talk amongst the Braves he might have made off with some stolen black market goods. What’s your angle?”
Their eyes met, and while his gaze was calm, it had a piercing quality too. The man sitting next to her was an experienced hunter, and they were both casting out lures, carefully ascertaining the other’s intention.
“Fine,” she sighed, lifting her hands as a peace offering. “No angle. I just want to find out the truth. I found Wilred.” Pausing, S’ert glanced at F’lhaminn, who, as any good bartender would, was quietly polishing a glass while acting like she wasn’t listening. “… Dead. An’ I want to find out who did it.” It was less calculation to garner sympathy with Riol and more out of habit that S’ert slipped back into La Noscean speak, his thick accent enabling her.
The fact that Riol didn’t react surprised but simply sighed and let his head hang a little lower when she shared her discovery, was all she needed to see to know that the man had had his own suspicions.
“Poor lad… I feared as much. Folk like to believe our company's a disciplined fightin' force, but it's no more'n a motley collection o' mercenaries, adventurers, an' Grand Company veterans.” He flicked his finger against his half-empty tankard, the sound it produced a low thump. “The only thing that binds us together is some vague oath about fightin' for the freedom of all. That an' the steady pay.”
“… but Wilred was different,” S’ert threw in. She remembered him being the fiery and reckless type, but far from throwing his pride away in favor of chasing a full sack of coin.
“Compared to most others in this crew, Wilred was a fresh-faced novice─a bleedin' whelp amongst wolves. But the boy had passion, I agree. When he talked about bein' a guardian of Eorzea, he bloody well meant it. So when he disappeared alongside some black market weapons we had confiscated, I knew somethin’ was off.” He leaned in then and lowered his voice, so S’ert mimicked his movements and ducked her head to listen. “An' then─an' this is just between you an' me, mind─there's the fact that the lad wanted to tell me about somethin' queer he'd noticed in the ledgers. Somethin' about the Braves' numbers not addin' up…”
Numbers not adding up. S’ert hated to be right.
“Dirty money…,” she said, quietly, and Riol tapped his temple while he narrowed his eye at her. “What he said bugged me an’ I got to thinkin' about where certain funds were comin' from. So I had a dig around─on the quiet, like─an' sure enough, I found it. Seems a fair bit o' coin's made its way into the Braves' coffers courtesy of a “Dodo Consortium”─a daft name for a business if ever I heard one, which is what first gave me an inklin' that somethin' weren't right.”
“You mean it’s a fake organization?” S’ert shifted in her seat, the frown gracing her forehead only darkening.
“One o’ many. Afterward, I went through the ledgers again an' found another half-dozen donations from organizations with stupid bloody names. It didn't take long to find the common thread: all were owned by the Mirage Trust.” She interrupted Riol by grabbing his arm, and he fell silent, giving a small nod as if he knew whose name she was going to utter. S’ert paused then, when she realized what she had done, eyes falling on her fingers around his sleeve, waiting for a vision to enter her mind.
But nothing.
“Teledji Adeledji.” Her grip on his arm tightened when she shifted her attention back to the matter at hand, the pieces falling into place. “The head of the Mirage Trust… the only member of Uldah’s syndicate that was willin’ to offer the Doman refugees his assistance… an’ with that fueling the resentment among the other minorities in the city! I don’t think he could have anticipated that Alphinaud got caught in one of the resultin’ riots an’ that it would prompt him to form the Crystal Braves, but… what’s his goal?”
“The gods only know how many men o' the Braves are takin' Teledji's coin. But now we know that some of 'em are, I'd wager me right eye they're the ones what did for Wilred. The earnest young fool had taken to askin' the wrong kind o' questions. Bound to attract attention, he was…” The sigh leaving Riol’s lips was heavy with regret, and her chest mirrored the weight. “Should've seen it at the time─but I didn't, gods damn me… Still, I don't see what Teledji hopes to accomplish. He hid his scheme with all the care of a drunk pissin' into the wind…”
“Maybe he just wants to cause chaos? Ensure the streets o’ Ul'dah remain unsafe by fannin’ the flames of resentment an’ controllin’ the force that is supposed to keep everythin’ in check?” S’ert had to be careful not to get swept up by the thrills of uncovering Teledji’s schemes. There was something exciting about practically seeing how every piece of information was finally coming together, revealing the bigger picture.
Just that they both lacked the tools to decipher it.
“No, he's cleverer than that─so we need to be clever too. That's the only way we'll ever repay this debt o' blood. We'll purge every one o' them traitorous bastards from our ranks! On that you have me word.” Studying Riol’s face, S’ert’s expression grew darker.
“How?” she asked, wondering if Alphinaud would even believe her, if he would even listen to what she had uncovered. Riol was right; they had to be smart about this. From her time in Ul’dah and the few times the Scions had brushed sides with the head of the Mirage Trust, S’ert knew that Teledji Adeledji was the type of businessman to plan three steps ahead. He wasn’t simply one of the most influential men in Ul’dah, he was one of the richest too, and due to the diligent work of the Crystal Braves, his network throughout Eorzea must have only grown further. He was a nasty ulceration, deeply ingrained in the inner workings of the Grand Companies and the order.
“There’s good folks in the Braves’ ranks, ‘tween the rotten ones. So let that be my worry. You go have a talk with that lady o’ your order.” Tipping his non-existent hat at F'lhaminn, who had chosen to settle at the far end of the counter to offer the two of them some privacy, Riol got to his feet then. “Lay low, only share this with those you trust. We’ll pay ‘em back tenfold for what they did to the poor lad.”
As the conversation had progressed, her excitement for revealing a secret plot had made way for a sense of dread instead. This was much bigger than her; this wasn’t something she could solve with her sword. And it must have shown in the way she was looking at Riol because the man offered her a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder to encourage her. “Nothin’ you have to solve by yourself,” he added encouragingly and S’ert did her best to force a small, tightlipped smile.
“Still, something to solve.”